


Single Devotion

by Woofemus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright Spoilers, Hoshido | Birthright Route, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woofemus/pseuds/Woofemus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For whose sake does she endure? Certainly not her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Single Devotion

All Flora had ever known in the beginning was fighting.

“You need to be strong,” her father speaks loudly as he lifts her back onto her feet. Her body aches with bruises and cuts and she wants nothing more than to sink back down into the snow and lay there forever. The numbness of the cold feels better than everything she’s already had to endure at her young age. She holds onto her father’s hand with her tiny ones, her weak grip her way of trying to plead with him how exhausted and battered she already is.

All that meets her is a look even colder than the ice around them. 

“You are  _my_  daughter. I will not allow you to be weak.” He pushes her out back into the fight. She stumbles, footsteps creating an erratic pattern on the snow, before she catches herself at the last second. The moment she steadies herself is when she’s knocked flat onto the ground again. Her mind spins and the temptation to close her eyes and let it all fade away is even stronger than ever.

She doesn’t though, laying there too stunned to even think. There’s someone standing over now, looking down at her. Is it her father? Or is it—

Her father reaches out. He pulls close Felicia and whispers praise into her ears. When her sister giggles, Flora clenches her hands in the snow, focuses on the numbing of her body to soothe the deeper scar inside herself.

Not for the first and certainly not for the last, Flora wonders what it would be like to hear those words for herself too.

By the time she grows older, she no longer deludes herself.

No, that wasn’t exactly right, Flora thinks to herself, as she watches the Hoshidan army advancing upon her people. The air around her freezes as she loses herself in her recollections. The wind howls with the icy fury she could never show. 

No, fighting wasn’t the only thing she had known in her pitiful childhood.

Already, she had known the extent of her worthlessness.

* * *

 Before her tenth birthday, everything changed.

“Come,“ her father speaks, pulling roughly on Flora’s arm to drag her along, “you two are to live away from the village.” When he reaches down to grab Felicia, it is a gentle touch, with a reassuring smile. Flora wishes she could forget this.  

“You’ll both be serving under King Garon’s daughter. It’ll be a good learning experience for both of you,” he tries to convince. It is only Felicia who buys his lies, not when Flora already knows the truth.

The privilege of being the next chieftain, she thinks as she watches her sister bid a tearful goodbye to her father who responds in the same. When he looks at her, all she is given is a curt nod.

“Remember to take care of your sister,” he says in that same voice that commands attention. Flora can do nothing but acknowledge his order. Even as the Nohrian soldiers take them away, his eyes never waver from their command. Even when the howling snow obscures his figure from view, Flora swears she can still see him, standing tall and proud, unyieldingly powerful like the pillar of ice in their village.

Her father is Chieftain of the Ice Tribe, and Flora has never known him any differently.

During the journey, Felicia comes to take her hand, shaking with fear, it offers little comfort to Flora. When the North Fortress comes into view and Felicia’s hand begins to tremble once more, Flora realizes that this is their reality now. She and her sister will be nothing but prisoners once they set foot inside here.

In here, all she has now is her sister. Her father will not come to save her no matter how much she cries. 

Inside the fortress, the air is cold. Goosebumps rise on Flora’s arms. It makes her confused. It’s much colder, harsher back home, what is it about this coldness that makes her afraid?

“Are these the two?” A deep, sinister voice that snaps Flora to attention booms through the room. Felicia immediately whimpers and all but latches onto her arm, nails digging into skin. Flora bites back the hiss of pain and looks up to see who had spoken. She has to be strong here, for the both of them. They are both from the Ice Tribe, known for their strength and fighting, they will--

Not even the pain of her arm can stop Flora from utterly freezing in terror.

The adults back home had always told a monstrous creature that stalked the night looking for tasty children to eat, as a way to ensure children stayed in their homes. “Watch out for the monster!” they’d speak in overly fearful tones. “It’ll catch you and never let you go! Yes, stronger than Prince Xander himself! It’ll snatch you right up, even faster than all those Faceless!”

Flora had always wondered why they had used Prince Xander as an example. Was he the strongest in all of Nohr? Was that not King Garon?

Now, she understands, as she feels the sweat dripping off her face, her feet rooted to the ground from sheer fear, all of her instincts telling her to run for her very life.

All the monsters Flora had grown up hearing about could never compare to King Garon himself.

* * *

Already in the past three days, she has seen four servants executed for seemingly meager mistakes.

Each and every time, she and Felicia are called out to witness them. King Garon sits atop a high chair with a maniacal grin as he watches the victims who scream and beg for mercy, their cries even louder than the howls of the wind back home. That smile on his face never drops until the axe does. No one is allowed to leave until he rises from his throne and stalks away for the next victim. 

Thankfully, the guards carry away the body, but here starts their first task out of many more for the years to come: cleaning up the blood. 

Flora understands; Felicia doesn’t, and Flora intends to keep it that way.

Her sister sobs in the middle of the night, her tears drenching Flora’s pajama top as she weeps, whimpering for their father to come save them.

You’re fine, I’m here with you, Flora wants to say, but her tongue is stuck, frozen with fear.

Felicia’s always said everything Flora’s wanted. 

Instead, all she can do is rub her hands up and down her sister’s back, trying to soothe her cries as best as she can. Their father cannot save them here, for they are here to save everyone at home. They need to be strong, for everyone counting on them. It is what Flora uses to comfort herself amidst the sobs of her sister.

One fearful week passes before King Garon finally leaves.

Almost immediately, the air changes. No longer heavy and oppressive, the chill of the fortress air becomes like a mild annoyance that Flora barely even notices. She was too busy being terrified of even breathing loudly in King Garon’s presence out of fear for being executed.

There are _two_ hostages here, after all.

After King Garon’s departure, Flora and Felicia begin their formal training.

Flora grasps it easily enough, having to serve her father and his guests when they arrive. Felicia doesn’t, her clumsiness breaking nearly all the cups and plates in the beginning. The cupboards, once abundant with expensive porcelain, now looks barren. Flora doesn’t know how many apologies and excuses she’s already made for Felicia by the end of the week. She spends her nights patching up Felicia’s cuts and trying her best to think of ways for Felicia to improve. It takes her a long time to realize that Felicia never will.

It is well into a month of their stay there that they are finally introduced to the master of the fortress.

A guardsman comes for them that fateful day. Flora looks up at him, eyes widening at the black armor he wears, its dark metal gleaming bright in the light.

At home, warriors dress themselves light. Prideful warriors they are, they scoff at the thought of armor; the snow and ice already protect them, what use is heavy armor when it does nothing but slow one down in the face of biting winds, stinging colds, and snow up to the knees? For the people of the Ice Tribe, such weather is nothing but child’s play. For the famed heavy knights of Nohr, it is a disaster in the making.

Flora wonders if this guardsman is different from the others. The ones that had brought them here wore armor of a lighter shade, and certainly not without the dents and cracks that tell Flora all she needs to know. She finally moves her eyes up, resting her gaze upon his face. He is old, much older than her father even, with his already gray hairs and scars lining down his wizened face.

When he looks at her, there is something in his eyes. Sympathy, compassion? But he isn’t hostile, not like some of the other Nohrians who stare at her and Felicia with less than disguised contempt. Fighting is the way of the Ice Tribe; being able to detect bloodthirst is second nature to them, and this guardsman has none. He nudges her again, a touch meant to get her attention than anything else. Is he a father? No, he looks more like a grandfather. 

“Come, children,” he suddenly says, standing aside the open door. Flora thinks she might be imagining it but there is a faint smile on his face as if he tries to make himself nonthreatening. She blinks, and the expression is gone. He waits for them to shuffle past him into the hallway before taking the lead. His strides are long and his steps echo with the clang of his metal boots.

Flora keeps a tight grip on Felicia’s hand before rushing after him. Felicia still shakes behind her, trying to hide her face into the arm of her older sister. He suddenly stops though, looking behind for a quick moment before starting again. Flora thinks of it as her imagination, but his steps seem to be slower than before.

They walk for what feels like a long time, going through winding hallway after hallway, climbing stairs Flora didn’t even know existed until now. Finally, when Flora’s legs shake with exhaustion, they stop. They come before a wooden door, large and ornate, polished to a such a shiny sheen that Flora swears she can see her own scared reflection.

The guardsman looks down at them, watching for a careful moment before he pushes open the doors.

The first immediate thing Flora notices is the girl standing in the middle. She looks to be about their age, maybe even younger, wearing a black dress. Her eyes are red, color so deep that it reminds Flora of roaring fire. The girl’s eyes twitch, and she turns to face them fully, long silver hair bouncing slightly from the motions.

Flora swallows as she realizes there’s something odd about her. Are… the tips of her ears poking out from her hair?

And… are they  _pointed?_

The guardsman steps into the room, and the girl immediately raises her eyes toward him, a wide smile coming upon her face as she rushes up to him. “Gunter!” she cries, latching onto his leg. And now, Flora watches as the guardsman breaks his cool façade, smiling fondly down at the girl.

“Hello, Princess,” he greets with a pat on her head.

“Are we going to play with the ball again today?” she asks excitedly.

“No--” she deflates, “—because, you have some new servants to be introduced to,” he continues.

“Huh? New servants?” The girl looks back at Flora and Felicia. Flora can’t help but tense up, especially as Felicia’s grip on her hand tightens slightly. “Oh! Is this what Father was talking about before he left?”

“Yes.” The guardsman gestures to them, staring straight at her. Flora recognizes he is going to address them now. “You stand in the presence of the daughter of King Garon, Princess Corrin! This is your new master.”

At the mention of King Garon, both Flora and Felicia immediately stiffen in fear. Then they register the latter half of his words, as they slowly widen their eyes in realization.

Daughter of King Garon… one of the princesses of Nohr, if Flora remembered. A daughter of King Garon… will she also be just as cruel as him? Is that pretty smile she wears only for her favorite subjects? Will she subject them to the same torture King Garon did those other poor servants? Flora doesn’t know, and she hates she is unable to do anything but accept what will come next.

Princess Corrin lets go of the guardsman’s leg, walking closer to them. Despite the trembling of her legs, Flora keeps steady, eyes defiant. Hostage she may be, she is still the next heir of the Ice Tribe. Though she will most likely be forced to grovel, her spirit will not be broken.

Now, they’re in front of each other, heir and princess. Felicia lets out a whimper, trying to hide behind her older sister. Flora does her best to keep herself together, to hold herself steady. For Felicia, she tells herself.

Princess Corrin blinks at her one more time before she lets out a grin and holds out her hand. “Hello! Nice to meet you!”

It takes Flora a moment but when she finally regains herself, she can’t help but gawk at the princess, eyes darting back and forth between the offered hand and the princess herself. She shoots a look over to the guardsman as well, but he offers no help save for the corner of his lips twitching upward. Flora looks down at the hand in front of her, still frozen.

Is this a trap? Is the princess only trying to get her to lower her guard? What must she even be thinking?

The princess suddenly frowns, looking back over her shoulder at the guard. “Gunter, am I doing this right? I read that people were supposed to shake hands when you meet someone new, but…”

“No, that’s right,” he reassures, before slowly turning his gaze over to her. The message is more than clear. Flora will play their game, as she reaches out and takes the princess’ hand—

“A-ah!” The princess yelps and shoots her hand back. Almost instantly, the guard rushes forward, stepping inbetween the both of them now with a hand on the hilt of his sword at his side.

There it is, Flora thinks. She knew that kindness was only a show. She makes sure Felicia is completely behind her before holding out her hands, ice crystals dancing around her fingertips. Their weapons might have been taken away but their powers remain. She’ll be able to buy some time for Felicia to escape, at the very least.

“W-wait, Gunter!” The princess cries out suddenly, shaking her head as she tugs on the knight’s leg once more. “I’m not hurt! Her hand… it was just really cold.”

“Cold?” He frowns but his eyes light up with realization once he catches sight of Flora’s hands. “Ah. Ice Tribe, yes,” he says, more as a reminder to himself than to them. Reluctantly, he releases his hold on his sword though his eyes are still wary. Princess Corrin darts forward again, holding out her hand once more.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that! Can we try again?” The princess smiles at her. Flora is still taken aback, unable to believe how a stranger, much less a daughter of  _King Garon,_ can look at her with so much trust and warmth. “I’m Corrin!”

Flora still stares at her, eyes roaming back and forth between the guard and the hand outstretched toward her. Slowly, she raises her hand—

Felicia moves forward ahead of her, clasping hands with the princess before either of them can react. Corrin freezes up again but keeps her hand out, smiling thinly.

“F-F-Felicia!” her sister cries before controlling herself. “I-I mean, I’m F-Felicia!” she mumbles afterward. Corrin’s smile grows.

“Felicia! I’m Corrin, nice to meet you!” And she shakes their hands up and down, motions exaggerated that it takes Flora a moment to remember that the princess is still a child. Felicia shakily nods her head and lets go, shuffling back to the side of her sister. Corrin waves her hand a bit after, no doubt to bring warmth back into her hand. She turns back to Flora and holds out her hand once more, still grinning. “Your turn!”

For the third time, Flora stares down at the hand of the princess. She can’t help but hesitate again, remembering how the princess had flinched from her touch just earlier. Corrin shakes her hand slightly, and Flora realizes that she’s still keeping a princess of Nohr, waiting. With that thought in mind, she carefully takes the proffered hand in a firm grip. The princess’ hand feels tiny in hers, the proof of how young she really is, of how young they both really are, but the heat radiating from the hand of the princess warms Flora’s.

“I’m Corrin!” the princess chirps, grinning widely and showing off the whites of her teeth, even the holes where they are missing. “Nice to meet you!”

Princess Corrin, daughter of King Garon, is not who Flora expects at all, but there is one thing she does know above all others, even if Corrin smiles at her with all the warmth of the sun she rarely feels.

“Flora,” she finally gives in a voice both solemn and defeated, to her new master.

* * *

It is rough in the beginning. Fighting is all Felicia and Flora have ever known; strength is the only merit for them. Here, in this fortress that is just as isolated away from the rest of Nohr as well, they cast aside all their pride from the Ice Tribe to do trivial things like memorize the proper way to serve meals, spend hours on end on their knees to scrub at halls that seem endless, amongst many others. It helps little when the Nohrians sneer at them, whisper how pitiful it must be for these poor children.

Flora pushes down the rush of anger, makes sure Felicia hears none of them. She is the heir of the Ice Tribe, she will endure all of this, for her father, for her sister, for her people.

The years begin to pile on before Flora realizes.  

There are some days where Flora goes on with her business as usual. The needs of Lady Corrin and the rest of the castle do not wait for her, after all. There are always so many things to do during the day and she will never be finished if she idles around.

Other days, Flora finds herself stopping in the middle of a lonely hallway in the sprawling fortress. She’s already long memorized the paths of the other servants and guards; they will not come here anytime soon to see her. She looks at the windows. These windows she’s helped clean multiple times, dutifully scrubbed for so many years to keep the glass clean, and she can see both the outside and her own reflection. 

Flora wonders when she started to look… complacent. 

Just as the walls of the fortress are nothing but a cage to keep in Lady Corrin, Flora’s own duty shackles her to this false mistress. She is the daughter of the proud chieftain to the Ice Tribe; how dare she be reduced to a paltry maid in service to a princess who will never set foot outside? But it is precisely because she is the daughter to the chieftain that she is in this position in the first place, nothing but a bargaining tool to ensure the safety of her Tribe. However much she hates it, she will play her part perfectly.

Princess Corrin is the one who makes things more difficult than they should be.

Flora hates that she knows exactly how Lady Corrin loves her tea, knows exactly how Lady Corrin loves her food prepared, knows exactly how the spot on her back that’s hard for Lady Corrin to wash during a bath.

She hates that she knows how Lady Corrin steals out of her bed to sneak into abandoned guard tower and stare out of its window for hours, staying silent as she dreams of places she will never be able to visit.

But what she hates the most is the happiness she feels when Lady Corrin looks up at her with that painfully innocent smile that always tugs at Flora’s heart, and compliments her for a job well done.

The words always warm her heart but she doesn’t allow them to take hold of it, telling herself that this praise does not come from the one Flora desperately wants to hear them from.

No, the one Flora  _needs_  to hear them from.

Sometimes, when she lays tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep because she dreams for the cold of a home taken from her. She wonders what her father is doing. Is he well? Does he get by without his daughters?

Which one does he miss more?

Sometimes, she wants to do nothing but pull Felicia aside, tell her to pack her things because they’re going to run away. How dare her sister be happy about this arrangement, even in ignorance? Why doesn’t she know, why doesn’t she understand, why doesn’t she realize?

And the thoughts leave just as fast when she hears the sound of shattering porcelain followed by Felicia’s cries of pain and Jakob scolding Felicia for dropping the plates once more. An ugly happiness swells inside of her, and Flora quickly pushes it down to rush forward and apologize for her sister’s mistakes.

“Why can’t you be competent like Flora is?” Jakob says in exasperation, shaking his head. “It’s hard to believe you two are even sisters sometimes.”

Even as Felicia whimpers helplessly and Flora gently soothes over Jakob’s words with her own, Flora can’t help the rush of elation she feels. In this fortress, she is competent and reliable, finally praised for her skills that she’s spent honing. The recognition of her hard work drives her further than she wants to admit.

But what would her father think of her?

It is this thought that always sobers Flora. These skills will not help her as future heir; nothing matters to the Ice Tribe but strength, after all. All of Flora’s accomplishments here matter little.

“Everyone? What are you all doing here?”

All three of them snap their heads toward the door where Corrin stands, blinking owlishly at them. When she sees Felicia on the floor amid the scattered remains of porcelain, she rushes away before either of them can react, shouting. “I’ll go get the first-aid kit!”

“T-thank you, Lady Corrin,” Felicia mumbles after her cuts have been tended to. “A-and I’m sorry for dropping everything a-again.” Corrin smiles, rubbing Felicia’s hand before letting go.

“As long as you weren’t hurt too bad,” the princess says. She looks as if she wants to speak more before a yawn breaks out instead. “O-oh, excuse me.”

“Oh, dear! Is it already so late already?! We must prepare the bed—” Jakob scrambles for the door, already opening it for Corrin. “I apologize for our tardiness, milady.”

“Jakob, wait.”

It is Flora who speaks, staring evenly at him. “I’ll help Lady Corrin today. Could you,” and she shoots a glance to where her sister is, “take care of Felicia for me?” Jakob looks appalled at the prospect, staring at Flora with a searching look in his eyes. Finally though, he sighs and acquiesces with a nod of his head.

“… very well. I’ll leave it up to you,” he says, He nods to them once more, holding the door open for them.

Flora follows behind Corrin as they walk down the hallway, their steps echoing through the corridor. The silence is more than palpable between them but Flora feels no need to break it. Out of all of them, Corrin acts the most reserved with her. Flora understands; unlike Felicia, who adores Princess Corrin, Flora feels no real lingering attachment to her. She is only here as a hostage, to do her job and serve Corrin to the best of her abilities.

Nothing more, nothing less.

By the time Flora tucks Corrin into bed, they’ve still exchanged few words between them. Flora pulls back with a satisfied nod when it looks like Corrin is comfortable enough. “Sleep well, milady.” She moves to walk away.

“Flora?”

She pauses, turning back to her master. “Yes?”

Corrin peeks her head out of the blankets to look at her. Flora blinks down at her, watching as Corrin pushes herself out more, to show her face. Corrin smiles then, that same innocent smile that always haunts Flora’s mind. “Good night,” she whispers back. With her words said, Corrin settles back onto the pillow and closes her eyes.

Flora’s eyes train on Corrin, catching the subtle rise of the blankets out of the corner of her eyes. Before she realizes, her hand is slowly reaching out.

It would be so easy, for Flora to lay her hand down upon the neck of the Nohrian princess, to let her ice do the rest. The temptation is always there, at the back of her mind when her thoughts stray into dangerous territory.

How much longer must she wait, how much longer must she do this, how much longer must she endure? For the sake of her people… for the sake of her sister… for the sake of her father…

For whose sake does she endure?

“Flora? Are you done with the princess?”

Felicia’s whisper, seemingly loud and piercing, shoots through her. Flora pretends that she is moving the blankets up before snatching her hand back. She must refrain. It is not only her that will suffer the consequences of such a rash act. Flora will no doubt be executed if caught, but the thought of what would happen to Felicia after scares her more than she admits.

The bonds of blood are meant to be stronger than those forged from mere words, after all.

And… it would be a shame if Lady Corrin were to perish, she tells herself afterward.

* * *

Flora carefully walks up the staircase, her footsteps light. A trick she’s taught herself, to keep from alarming others and also be able to sneak around should she need to. It is an especially useful skill against assassins who think of her as only a mere servant.

She finally reaches the top of the staircase, pausing before the door. Her eyes catch the way the door is ajar, a small stream of the moonlight filtering through. Waiting for just a moment, she takes a deep breath and pushes through, making sure her hand is firm against the wood.

The door creaks loudly. Corrin startles from where she’s leaning against the windowsill, whirling around to Flora with panicked eyes.

“O-oh, Flora, it’s just you,” Corrin says with a sigh of relief. Flora raises a brow at that but says nothing of it, stepping into the room.

“Milady, what are you doing up here?” she asks out of politeness, already knowing the answer. “Please, go back to bed now.”

“Ah… um…” Corrin glances back and forth between Flora and the window. It is more than large enough for someone to sit on, and also more than large enough for someone to fall out of, if it ever happens. Flora’s hands twitch but she hides them but intertwining her fingers together.

Corrin claps her hands together, shooting her a pleading look. “J-just for tonight! Please?”

Flora resists the urge to sigh, stepping further into the room until she stands in front of Corrin. “Milady…”

Corrin’s expression remains hopeful, an anxious smile upon her face. The words Flora wants to speak catch in her throat, and she is only glad that the only light they have is the shine of the moon from the window. Flora glances away, clearing her throat to compose herself.

“… just for a few minutes, and I will have to stay here. The others will ask me where you are, and I will not lie to them.”

“That’s more than fine,” Corrin easily replies for some reason, a pleased grin upon her face now. She takes a seat on the windowsill before reaching out to grab Flora’s arm. The touch is light but it makes Flora freeze all the same, immediately darting her eyes downward to it. Her sleeve covers her arm but even through it, there is still the slight cold that always permeates through fabric no matter how much Flora tries to suppress her powers.

Corrin tugs on her arm, looks up at her with a smile filled with excitement. “Sit next to me!”

“I…” Flora cannot help but hesitate, still staring down at the hand on her arm. It must no doubt be cold but she can’t tell anymore, not when Corrin’s hand, nearly searing hot where it holds her, is more than distracting.

Corrin tugs her once more and still distracted, Flora loses her step. Before she can react, Corrin catches her and seats her down right next to her. The princess’s smile turns lopsided. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

“I… it’s…” Flora swallows and takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she finally answers, composed now. Corrin lets go of her arm, and Flora settles for brushing off imaginary dust before making herself comfortable. She doesn’t know what Lady Corrin is trying to play right now, but Flora knows she has no choice but to entertain her mistress now. She hopes it won’t be too long.

Corrin smiles at her once more before turning back to face outside, pointing. “Look! The stars are really bright, aren’t they?”

Flora follows her finger, absently nodding. “Yes…” Her eyes sharpen in the next moment though, scanning her eyes all over the dark horizon. Words slip out before she realizes. “There’s more stars back home.”

“Really?” Corrin’s eyes are large and inquisitive now, turning up to meet her eyes. Flora resists the urge to sigh once more. That hadn’t meant to slip out.

“… yes. For the Ice Tribe, we live in the mountains so the view is clearer than here.”

“Is that so?” Corrin blinks at her glancing back and forth between her and the stars before settling on Flora. “What’s the Ice Tribe like?” the princess asks afterward.

Flora stills again. Corrin’s expression is innocent, unaware of the thoughts whirling through Flora’s mind. She’s been an actor for many years already but she can feel herself wavering for a single moment as she recalls the homeland she was forcibly taken from.

To serve  _her._

Sometimes, Flora wonders about telling Corrin about everything. How would she feel, to know that her two trusted servants, are nothing but hostages taken from their home? How would she feel, to know that the duty they swore to her is nothing but a falsehood? How would she feel, to know that Flora thinks nothing of her?

“Flora?”

She startles. Lady Corrin’s brow is furrowed as she reaches out. When her hand touches Flora’s, she doesn’t flinch away from the layer of coldness that coat the people of the Ice Tribe. Her eyes hold worry as she murmurs the name of her maid again.

Pitiful, Flora thinks. Lady Corrin is only a few years younger than her but she often craves for contact like a little child. Lady Corrin, a princess of Nohr, always needy for attention and acknowledgement. Flora, the heir to the Ice Tribe, always yearning for the validation she so desperately needs.

They are both pitiful, Flora thinks, nothing but children trapped in a fate neither wanted.

Flora takes a deep breath before she begins her story.

The chieftain’s daughter paints a picture of idyllic living, where they stay in cozy homes with the roaring fires to keep them warm even as a blizzard howls outside. When the storm calms, families run outside to spend precious time together before they must retreat back into the comfort of their home when the snow picks up again. Dinners are full of wonderfully hot stews meant to warm both the stomach and heart.

Flora swallows suddenly, aware of the knot in her throat. This was a mistake, she’s quickly realizing. Her heart aches with homesickness and she longs for the blanketing snow back home. The air around her begins to chill, and it is only the sudden squeeze on her hand that brings her back. The temperature creeps back to normal.

“… I apologize, milady,” Flora murmurs. Lady Corrin smiles in that naïve way she always does and gives her another squeeze.

“Do you miss home?”

Flora swallows again, suddenly aware of how dry her throat is. “I… I would be lying if I said no,” she finally answers, her voice barely carrying in the space of everything.

Lady Corrin begins to shift. Flora watches her out of the corner of her eye. The princess stares out with a pensive look that doesn’t suit her at all. “Would you think it weird if I told you that I wish I knew how that felt?”

Flora does. She answers instead with a pause and a slight turn of her head. Lady Corrin smiles ruefully. “I’ve lived here my whole life, but this fortress… is it considered home?”

“If you consider it so,” Flora answers in a soft voice.

“It… it could be, but…” Corrin turns to her with an embarrassed smile. “I think it’s home, because all of you are here with me.”

Not all of us by choice though, Flora can’t help but think bitterly.

Corrin gives her another squeeze of her hand then. Flora slowly turns her eyes down toward it, doing her best to keep it still. How is it so warm after holding her hand the whole time? How is it not frozen to the touch, just like Flora’s own heart?

“… we are yours, after all,” Flora whispers, to herself or to her mistress she doesn’t know. Corrin’s hand squeezes down once more.

“Say, Flora, can you tell me more about the Ice Tribe?”

“… more, milady?”

“Yeah.” Corrin glances over at her, eyes shining with barely concealed curiosity. “I’d like to know where you come from.”

“… I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell other than what I’ve told you.”

“Nothing? Really?” Flora catches the way Corrin’s face falls, full of disappointment. It is familiar, something she’s already used to, but to see that look on her mistress…

“N-no, I can talk a little more about it,” Flora rushes out without realizing. The tiny smile Corrin gives her nearly makes her shiver. With no other choice, Flora continues her tales, forgetting that they had only meant to stay here for only a few minutes. As Flora gets lost in her storytelling, Corrin continues to pull closer. The princess has long let go of Flora’s hand but still keeps close, the back of their fingers brushing. Even with the coldness that is always ever present on her hand, Corrin never pulls away, sometimes knocking softly into Flora’s hand.

Flora doesn’t move her hand away.

“It sounds wonderful,” the princess whispers sleepily afterward, trying to push back the dreams to continue to listen to tales of the outside she will never explore.

“We can visit there one day.” The words rush out of Flora before she realizes. She holds her breath, cursing herself for her mistake. Why does this keep happening? Why is she so… restless? But the princess nods, and finally, her eyes close fully, breaths even as she fully rests her weight against Flora. She finally lets out the breath, her hands balling into fists.

How easy it would, if Flora were to reach out right now, lay her hand upon the neck of the princess, and let the ice freeze the pulse thrumming underneath her cold fingertips. How easy it would be, for Flora to end the life of the princess at this moment—

Without meaning to, her fingertips brush against bare skin. Flora immediately snatches her hand back, watches with bated breath as Lady Corrin’s eyes flutter before curling closer to her maid.

Flora turns back to the window, eyes lingering on the stars above. Back home, the stars are always in full view, in their remote village hidden away in the mountains. Here, with all the lights of the fortress shining bright, the radiance of the stars is disappointedly dimmed.

When will she be able to go back? When can she stop pretending to be a servant who lives for only her liege? When can she go home, to where her father is, to where he will never acknowledge her past the fighting prodigy of her sister? When can she stop staying here, serving the princess of Nohr who offers nothing but kind words and smiles full of the warmth Flora has never felt elsewhere?

When will she stop lying to herself?

Flora lets out a smile, wistful and whimsical, just like the stars themselves as they shine over this desolate fortress. If Flora tells these stars her wishes, will they finally come true? All those years of wishing, wanting, waiting…

… but what is it that she truly wishes for?

She glances down Corrin, the princess slumbering peacefully even when pressing against the chill that is Flora herself. Corrin used to flinch away so terribly from the coldness; when did she become used to it?  _Why_  has she become so accustomed to it?

In a moment of impulsiveness, Flora gently intertwines the tips of their fingers together, memorizing how it feels, how it taunts her with warmth she will never have. 

“… sleep well, milady,” she finally speaks in whisper meant only for the stars to hear, her only admission of weakness.  

* * *

They don’t speak of that night.

Corrin continues onward with her sword training under Prince Xander and Gunter’s tutelage, preparing for the day she can finally leave, if it ever will come. Flora continues onward with her duties as she always does, stubbornly refusing to think about what will happen to her once Corrin decides to leave.

Just as before, the days drag ever onward. King Garon still refuses to allow Princess Corrin out of the castle, and Flora continues to remain in perpetual service. They both remain trapped in this lonely fortress that’s stolen their futures. Corrin continues to sneak into the guard tower, staring up at the stars with such longing that Flora wonders if she truly believes the stars can grant her wishes. They won’t, Flora wants to tell her,  _because mine have never been granted._

But Flora isn't that cruel to her mistress. 

There are times where Flora walks up the lonely path to the guard tower. She sneaks into the room with practiced ease but Corrin always manages to turn her head every time. Wordlessly, Flora will offer a blanket, and Corrin will accept. Other times, Corrin will turn toward her, look up at her with pleading, unable to take the solitude any longer, longing for something neither are sure they understand. 

Flora doesn't understand why she stays. She bears no love for her mistress, absolutely none at all, not like Jakob and Felicia. 

So why? Why does she continue to climb the narrow staircase to where the daughter of the king who imprisons her awaits with the loneliest look in her eyes, to where the stars shine the brightest in this desolate fortress, to where even she forgets her own duties to both her father and to the kingdom of Nohr. Here, in this space, where it is only her and, dare she even say it, Corrin…

In here… what she desires the most...

"Flora," Corrin suddenly speaks one night, rising from where she sits on the windowsill. The action entirely catches Flora off guard that she forgets to close the door behind her; this is a first, out of all their meetings. 

 "Y-yes, Lady Corrin?" 

The princess steps closer to her, and closer, closer still until they're finally standing right in front of each other, Flora needing to turn her eyes slightly upward to catch the gaze of her mistress. From this close, Flora can suddenly see how different they both suddenly are. They were children when they had met, and they've both grown since then. Even so, Corrin still holds fast to that air of naivety and innocence that both infuriates and relieves Flora. Her dream to go outside has never faded, only grown stronger even with each passing refusal from her father.

How many years has it been, though? Flora doesn't remember when she lost track, doesn't remember when she stopped dreaming of her father coming to rescue her, doesn't remember when she let her days blur together. 

"Flora, I... I think... I... I'm in..." Corrin looks away for a brief moment before meeting Flora's eyes once more. Her mouth opens, and—

Flora hitches her breath and covers her face, trying to push back against the flush threatening to take over. This... t-this... this is... 

No. 

No, no,  _no_ —

“W-why?” she finally voices in a choked breath. Her heart pounds like snow slamming the windows during a blizzard. A slow heat begins to course through her but--no… this… this is—

“H-huh? Why?” Corrin looks at her with confusion, as if being asked _this_ is more ridiculous than what she just spouted moments earlier. She glances away, nervously scratching her cheek. “Because… because I do?”

“But… b-but,  _why_?” Flora knows this is unfair of her to ask, but she needs to know. What part of her is even worth looking at?

Corrin still doesn’t face her, nervously casting her gaze elsewhere. Flora can’t help the sinking feeling inside. It isn’t enough, this isn’t enough, she… she  _needs_ to know how someone as pure as Corrin could even look at someone like  _her—_

“I… I notice, you know,” Corrin finally starts, facing Flora though she looks at something beyond her maid, still too nervous. “When you think no one's watching, when you think you're alone... I notice how you try so hard to do your best, and you... you're always so cool, and you don't really put me on a pedestal like Jakob and Felicia seem to do and... and I appreciate that."

"But sometimes... you also look so lonely, and I can't help but feel like it's because of me too..." Corrin lets out a laugh, short and quick, amused at herself, too distracted to notice Flora tensing up. "So that's why I won’t give up on my dream of being able to leave. There's still a whole world out there, and I don't want to remain in here for the rest of my life! And... when that happens…”

“Will you come with me?”

… no. She cannot. No, no, no, _no—_

It is those simple words that shatter Flora completely. 

This is wrong. This is unacceptable. This is impossible.

Corrin is... a princess... the daughter of the man who oppresses her people... and Flora is... Flora is... 

This... this is not part of her duty... her duty to... the Ice Tribe... b-but... this is her mistress who is asking this of her... her mistress who she's supposed to have sworn loyalty to... but her own loyalty is supposed to lie with her people... 

This... this cannot... why...

"I cannot." 

Flora stumbles backward with a shake of her head, away from the hurt face of her mistress, away from where her hopes and and dreams lay, away to where her true duty is meant to be at. 

“I… am not the person you think I am." 

Flora swallows the rest of her words before running away. She doesn’t hear Corrin shouting or making any sort of noise, doesn’t hear the princess coming after her.

Did Flora hope she would?

She doesn’t know, nor will she ever.

It's... no. They cannot.  _She_ cannot.

If there is one thing Flora knows she can do best, it is lie to herself.

Above all others though…

Lady Corrin deserves so much better than her.

* * *

Hoshido invaders are found the next day.

* * *

The snow whips all around Flora as she travels back through the familiar mountains, the only comfort to the rising dread inside. Even if she’s been gone for years, this coldness has always been her blanket, one she cherishes dearly. She's missed this for far too long, didn't realize how much she had taken this for granted.

By the time she arrives at the doorstep of her home, the villagers have clamored enough about the return of the Chieftain’s daughter that he is all but opening the door to her.

How long has it been seen she’s seen her father? There are more lines on his face than she remembers. There is a tired slouch to him that she _knows_ he never had before. He is both same yet different, but even so, her voice catches and it’s all she can do to hold back her tears. He looks her up and down, as if he can’t believe his eyes. A smile tugs at his lips, and Flora feels—

His smile wavers suddenly, as he looks around her this time. “Felicia… is not with you?”

Flora casts her eyes down, unable to meet his heavy gaze. She slowly shakes her head, voice soft and steady as she answers. “She chose to follow after her master instead.”

Her father doesn’t answer, at least not right away. She can feel the surprise spreading through him like a thin sleet of ice, before he startles. “… ah,” is all he says, tone still level. Flora still keeps her eyes down, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes.

What Flora doesn’t expect is the hand on her shoulder. She glances at it out of the corner of her eye, as if trying to wish it wasn’t real.

“I… am glad that you’ve come back,” he says with all the awkward grace of a father acting like he’s meeting his daughter for the very first time. Flora supposes it might as well be. When has he ever looked at her past Flora, the next heir to the Ice Tribe?

His newfound affection comes far too late, Flora thinks bitterly, not when the damage is already done and locked deep inside where it continues to remind her that she will never be the first choice.

_“Will you come with me?”_

No… she was, once, and threw her chance away. 

* * *

With the kidnapping of his daughter and subsequent return to her true kingdom and family, King Garon’s iron fist tightens over Nohr.

Even after returning home, there is still no rest for Flora. With each new atrocity King Garon and his henchmen commit, her father grows angrier. The air in the tribe chills her with a different feeling this time, one of foreboding and tension. She has seen the power of King Garon himself, knows he is simply not one to be crossed, even for her father. She needs to warn him before it is too late—

“My brethren, now is the time! We must show King Garon that he cannot continue with his reign! We must revolt and show him the strength of the Ice Tribe!”

Flora can only watch in horror as everyone in her village screams their agreement, rallying themselves under her father’s command. No matter how strong they are, they will be crushed under the might of King Garon. She needs to tell them to stop their madness, reaches out for her father--

Her hand wavers. She is back in the Ice Tribe now, strength is everything here. Would he even listen to her, his worthless heir who isn’t even stronger than her younger sister? His anger has been cultivated over many years of having his daughters stolen from him, and only one has returned, his unfavorable one. His anger is one that is justified and not to be easily swayed by Flora’s weak will.

Her hand falls back down to her side.

She can only watch as her father and tribe begins to mount a resistance, gathering other groups dissatisfied with King Garon. Cheve offers their support though they cannot offer troops, not when their town is already a hotbed of dissent and are under heavy surveillance. With each new letter of support, the confidence of the Chieftain grows.

The strength of the Ice Tribe is absolute, fighting is everything they know, the seeds they cultivate the moment they are born. Nohr may be harsh as well but they have not lived in the mountains of the Ice Tribe, with the blizzards that constantly threaten to snuff their life.

Nohr has no might against them.

But the Ice Tribe still has no might over  _King Garon._

Once more, Flora sees him. His ghastly visage hasn’t changed one bit, the lines on his face seemingly deeper and even more sunken than before. The cruelty and bloodthirst in his eyes shine, and Flora already knows what is coming next, as he stands over her father’s weakened body. Bölverk is as menacing as she remembers it all those years ago.

She will never get forget this sight for the rest of her life.

Her father, submitting under King Garon’s might, spits at the boots of the Nohrian King just as the axe falls down—

King Garon’s maddened laughter drowns out Flora’s screams.

Why couldn’t he have gone back to biding his time? Why couldn’t he have seen that they were always powerless? Why couldn’t he have seen that there was  _nothing_ they could do, that King Garon’s ruthlessness and power ran farther than anyone could ever believe?

And now, Flora’s last memory of her father will be where his severed head lies in a puddle of its own blood on the stained carpet, leaving behind a legacy she will never be able to fill.

Sometimes, serving under Lady Corrin under a thin veil of hatred and loathing was much easier than this, Flora can’t help but think. Anything else would be easier than _this_ , as King Garon stares her down as the new Chieftain of the Ice Tribe, roaring at her as spittle flies from his lips. She feels that terror paralyze her once more, as her legs quake and she can’t rush out the vows of loyalty fast enough—

“Choose a side, or if you can’t–” King Garon raises Bölverk once more, the blood of her father dripping down right in front of her. In that moment, Flora feels like a reaper is staring her down. No…

In front of her is a monster, and she doesn’t even register as a  _being_ in its eyes.

“–die with your father like the trash you are!” 

With the blade just above her own neck and in front of all her shamed and defeated tribesmen, she chooses betrayal.

Utterly shamed and rid of their boastful pride now, the Ice Tribe marches back to their home with a new Chieftain. Their burning rage at King Garon gone now, bitterness and discontent take its place.

The Chieftain’s daughter is still too young for this, they whisper.

How are we to trust her, she was in service to them, look how easily she cowered before King Garon, they whisper.

The Chieftain is dead and the Tribe is without a powerful leader, how must we expect a mere  _maid_ to lead us, they whisper.

Flora stays silent against their accusations. What can she do, when she agrees with them? There is  _nothing_  she can do to quell their fears but to listen to King Garon. She is the new Chieftain now, and it is not only her life on the line.

It was never only her life on the line.

At least Felicia doesn’t have to be a part of this, she thinks with a bitter laugh.

King Garon’s tactician, a slimy and despicable man, advises her to the palace outside Macarath with a chortle, muttering under his breath about how excited he is to see their tearful reunion between master and maid.

She thinks him foolish. Why will Corrin think any better of her, being the only one to not follow after her? Flora’s loyalties have never lied with her.

It is what she continues to tell herself even as the Hoshido army arrives.

Corrin and a small band rush into the palace, frantic. Flora takes a moment to steel herself before she steps forward, letting the sound of her steps on the marbled tile announce her presence—

“F-Flora!”

And she has only a second to react before Felicia suddenly darts out from the group. Another second, and now her sister is clinging tightly to her, sobbing into her shoulder. “Y-you’re okay! I was scared what would happen to you… I…” Felicia begins to hiccup, too incoherent to continue. Out of reflex, Flora’s arms already wind around Felicia, whispering words of comfort to her. This situation is horrible, her sister unknowing of her betrayal, but it is more than nice to know that Felicia is safe.

Flora takes one more selfish moment to enjoy this last sisterly embrace before she prepares herself.

From behind, Flora can see the rest of group coming up. There’s Jakob and Corrin, along with other people, dressed in Hoshido clothes. She guesses this must be the royal family of Hoshido, Lady Corrin’s true siblings; there’s just no being able to hide their royal bearing, something Flora’s long recognized. One of them steps forward, asking for medicine for their sick prince.

The trap is in motion, and Flora leads them all into it. As they walk through the sprawling hallways, she refuses to meet Corrin’s eyes. What sort of look is her former liege giving her? Flora doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to see.

She still refuses to look at her even when she leads them all home to the Ice Tribe, all of them none the wiser. Flora’s always been a good actor, after all.

The final piece is now in play. _Now,_ she looks Corrin in the eyes right as her tribesmen rush forward and attack.

If Princess Corrin hadn’t sided with Hoshido… King Garon wouldn’t have tightened his iron fist to squeeze the life out of all under his power… her father wouldn’t have gotten desperate enough to revolt under such terrible circumstances… her tribesmen wouldn’t be fighting to the death right now because  _anything_  is better than living under King Garon’s rule…

It is all Lady Corrin’s fault. Lady Corrin’s to blame, Flora tells herself, even as her hands shake when she readies her knives. Lady Corrin’s fault, as Felicia tries over and over again to plead reason and sanity back into her.

Corrin stands in front of her. Slowly, she reaches out with her hand, her own way of pleading. She smiles, that same painfully innocent and naïve smile that always tugs at Flora’s heart each and every time.

How does she have such a hold over Flora? How can she always make Flora question her loyalties and duties every time?

How can she still look at her with so much trust?

No… not for someone like her… she doesn’t… Flora doesn’t deserve any of that… she is…

Flora is the Chieftain of the Ice Tribe. Corrin is the Princess of Nohr—no, she is a Princess of Hoshido now. She is even more of an enemy to Flora. King Garon has ordered her to eliminate Princess Corrin of Hoshido at all costs, and she intends to follow through with it no matter what.

For her tribesmen, this is the last act she can do as their Chieftain. 

Corrin tries to reach out one more time just as Flora tosses her dagger straight at her, the blade cutting a straight line even with the wind and snow around them. Jakob is the one who knocks it out of the air with his own dagger. He glares at her, eyes holding disgust and contempt, looks at her like she is nothing but a dirty insect on the wall meant to be crushed. 

That’s a much better look befitting someone like her, Flora thinks with bitter laugh. It truly is all she is right now, nothing but a rodent desperately trying to cling to its wretched existence. How much longer will she live? How much longer must she endure all of this?

It will all be over soon.

Flora readies another dagger, eyes hard as she trains them on her former liege. Her sister darts in front of Corrin, spreading her arms out to block Flora from attacking. It works. Flora’s hands still.

“F-Flora! P-please, stop! Y-you can’t be serious about this! Attacking Lady Corrin?! We’ve served her our whole lives!”

“I know.” Flora’s voice, too quiet to answer Felicia back, rises. “I know! This is exactly why I have to do this! Move aside, Felicia! I do not wish to harm you, but--”

“N-no! I won’t! I… I won’t let you harm Lady Corrin!” Once more, Felicia tries again, voice firmer this time. “Come back to us! Just like before, all three of us, serving Lady Corrin! Didn’t we all swear an oath to her?”

“An oath that I refused. I was never on your side in the first place,” Flora whispers uselessly to the ice whirling around them. It takes her words and soars into the sky, far away from the battle. For the first time, Flora finally smiles, even with the anguish tearing at her inside. “Just as easily, like all my hopes and dreams… they should fly away…” 

In the end, what does she even have? 

Nothing. Absolutely…

Nothing.

“Flora…” Corrin pushes past Felicia, shouting her name. Flora slowly turns to look over at her, telling herself she is ready for what is to come. No matter what look Corrin gives her, Flora has already made up her mind. There is no choice for her, she’s already come so far.

“I forgive you!”

… what?

No, this has to be a trick, an awful trick. A trap, to lower her guard, that must be it. Flora whips her head over to Corrin, frantic.

Corrin holds out her hand one more time, still with that same smile. Her sword is held loosely in her hand, showing she has no intention of attacking. Once more, Flora feels herself become captivated by that innocence on her face, the genuine forgiveness in her eyes, the hope that shines bright in her.

It’s unfair.

Flora doesn’t deserve any of that.

“No... no! I… _don’t_!” Flora’s dagger is out of her hands before she even realizes, thrown straight at her liege. No! That hadn’t meant to happen—

Once more, Jakob strikes the dagger out and retaliates with his own. Flora’s response is automatic, twisting her body out of the way though it still grazes through her arm. The wound stings, but it pales in comparison to everything she feels inside.

Corrin… is far too kind… to such a lowly servant like her…

Ah… what sort of servant is she, for her mistress to cry tears over?

It is the final blow to Flora.

“All those years… they were my only happiness,” Flora whispers knowing that Corrin will hear nothing. It is more than fine for her; Corrin doesn’t deserve to hear the words of one who betrayed her. Flora has already been defeated before the battle has begun. She lowers her hands, dropping all her knives. Felicia and Corrin stare at her, hope shining in their eyes. They rush forward—

Flora closes her eyes and lights the spark.

There is only one sentence for traitors.

But above everything else, she can never forgive herself for betraying Corrin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Corrin snaps awake, gasping loudly.

“You’ve finally woken up by yourself this time.”

Corrin startles at the voice before realizing who it belongs to. She yelps, instinctively covering her neck and bracing herself.

Nothing comes, except for a quiet laugh. Corrin slowly peeks open her eyes, more than confused. Flora leans over her, lips pulled into a knowing smile.

“You’re already awake. Why would I need to wake you up again?”

“Oh… um, yeah, that’s right.” Corrin blushes in embarrassment, knowing that even the tips of her ears are red now. She pushes herself upward, realizing a second later that she wasn’t sleeping in her own bed but in Flora’s lap instead. The realization makes her freeze, the force of her blush deepening the redness on her face.

Fingertips as cold as ice trail down her neck and Corrin all but shoots to her feet with a yelp, slapping her hands over cooled skin. She looks over at Flora, betrayed. Flora only raises her hand to her mouth, tittering behind it for a moment before rising to her feet and dusting herself off.

“Forgive me, Lady Corrin, but there’s still much for you to do.”

“Right,” Corrin answers in a grumble, still rubbing her neck. “What do I need to do? Did Father come to visit today? Or is Xander here and asking for me to train with him?” The thought of Xander visiting perks her right up. “I learned some new moves from Gunter, I’ll have to show them to him!” She spins around, already looking forward to the rest of the day.

A hand on her sleeve makes her pause. Corrin’s never thought of it, but Flora rarely touches her in such a manner, even if to get her attention. She slowly turns around, more than confused. Flora smiles at her and Corrin can’t help but think it looks so sad, so helpless for some reason.

“Lady Corrin…” she starts, voice barely above a whisper that Corrin strains to hear it, “you’ve already shown Prince Xander your swordplay. And you’ve surpassed him.”

“I… did?” Corrin blinks at her, more than confused. A heavy weight suddenly pulls her down, and she looks to see what it is.

In her hands is the holy sword of Yato, along with—

The shock rips through Corrin. She can’t breathe, not when she remembers everything she’s done. Xander, _Elise--_

Fingers gently lay upon her cheeks before palms slide up to cup them. Corrin flinches at the coldness, trying to shake off the hands. The hands become firmer, and Corrin is forced to stare up at Flora now.

“Lady Corrin,” Flora speaks, urgently. “Lady Corrin!”

Corrin gasps and finally stills. Flora smiles at her. “Lady Corrin, you’ve already come so far. You can’t stop here.”

“But… but I… b-but!” Tears fall out of Corrin’s eyes and now she’s the one reaching out, hands gripping tight on Flora. “How?! And… you’re… you’re also…” She weeps, unable to hold herself together anymore.

“I know,” Flora says quietly. “I’m sorry to leave such a heavy burden on you…”

“No, I… I just…” Corrin hiccups, unable to finish the rest of her sentence. She pulls away though, smiling tearfully up at Flora. “I…  I know. I can’t stay here. Everyone’s waiting for me. Thank you for waking me one last time.”

“It is my duty, after all,” Flora answers solemnly.

“Your… duty…” Corrin hesitates, looking up at Flora. “Say… Flora… can I ask… if you liked…” she shakes her head instead, wistful now. “No, never mind. It might just be better for me to not know.” Corrin nods, resolve shining in her eyes. “I’ll be leaving now. It was wonderful to see you again. I won’t… I won’t forget you.”

Flora can only smile in return, watching Corrin turn around. Her cape is pure white now, with the mark of Hoshido upon it. Soon, Corrin will finally be free from the grasp of King Garon, dispose of the tyrant king for the good of the world. She’s come so far from being a princess trapped in a lonely fortress with only her servants and stars to keep her company.

“Milady,” Flora suddenly starts. Corrin pauses, slowly turning around. Flora’s voice thickens and she tries to push the words out. “This… this might be selfish of me, to ask this of you now after everything, but I do have one request...”

“If, perhaps… someone like me could have another chance… if we could meet again in another world… if I had the chance to grace you with the oaths you were meant to hear from me…”

She kneels down, for the first time in all her years of service, pressing a hand over her heart. “Will you allow me to serve you once more?”

The silence after her declaration is poignant, heavy as it hangs over both of them. Flora knows what she asks for is selfish, far too much for one of her station. Corrin would be foolish to waste her kindness on someone like her, especially after everything she’s done.

And yet… and yet…

Corrin steps closer to Flora, her feet thudding against the carpet. “Do… do you truly mean it? All those years…”

Flora swallows down the lie she means to give, risking a chance to look up at Corrin. The words she had spoken last, she tells them once more, now for Corrin to hear.

“All those years… they were my only happiness.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Corrin gestures for her to rise. She obeys, and waits for her next command.

Corrin reaches out instead, bringing one of Flora’s hands to her lips, pressing a brief kiss over the back of her fingers in the lightest of touches.

“I still feel very strongly for you. It hurts every day knowing that you’re gone forever,” Corrin lets out in a pained whisper. “If I had known everything, I could have done so much more… I could have…”

“But you did not, because I did not trust you enough,” Flora breathes. “The fault is mine, and only mine alone. There is nothing either of us could have done,” she finishes sadly.  

Corrin’s hold tightens before it wavers, knowing Flora’s words to be true.

“… alright. I will accept your oath.” Corrin slowly meets Flora’s eyes, firm in their determination. “I look forward to that day.”

“Thank you, Lady Corrin. You are… far too kind to someone like me.” Flora glances down at their hands before meeting Corrin’s eyes once more. “The next time we meet, I swear to serve you with all I have.”

Flora pulls away after, bowing to Corrin. “Now, you must get back to everyone. I’ve wasted more than enough of your time here.”

“… yes, of course. For you, and your father, I’ll make sure to stop King Garon.” Corrin smiles at her, and Flora suddenly feels like they are years younger, when they had first met. Corrin, with all her broken teeth and smile full of childish innocence that still survives even now, and Flora, her heart already frozen off but slowly melting with the passing of years.

“Hey, Flora… before that though, the next time we meet, I have to tell you everything I’ve seen. Outside the fortress, I mean. Everything’s so beautiful, and… I think you would have liked it.” Corrin trails off with a quiet sniffle.

“I will look forward to your stories,” Flora answers in a steady voice, even as the tears gather at the corner of her eyes. Ah… she didn’t think it would hurt this much to say goodbye one more time…

“Yeah, I’ll be the one to tell the stories this time.” Corrin grins, a lopsided smile, and Flora can’t help the giggle at the silly smile. Corrin turns serious in the next moment. “Flora, thank you for all your years of service, and...” She gives Flora a firm nod and speaks the words Flora’s always wanted to hear.

“You’re free from your duties, you can finally rest now.”

The smile Flora gives afterward is the happiest Corrin has ever seen from her.


End file.
